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But I could be pissed off with the islanders.

In spite of police assurances, my name did hit the tabloids three months ago, and the media descended on our village like a plague. I couldn’t leave my house. And I didn’t want to because when I did, I was treated to condemnation.

Everything I’d questioned about myself, every feeling of self-loathing and disbelief, was reflected in their eyes. How hadn’t I known Greig Wallace was a serial killer? How could I have slept with such a monster? They were angry I’d brought the national media to the island. They were angry? I was the one who had to hide inside my house for days until they got bored and left.

Then there were the unpleasant insults. The worst of my neighbors said: When a woman slept around like I did, of course, it would lead to something deplorable like this.

Forde’s Uncle Roddy actually spat the word slut at me as I walked out of the deli three weeks ago. He did it where there was no one else to hear him. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to it, but I resented the fear I felt in that moment. The vulnerability.

Strangely, being treated like the town pariah gave me my fighting spirit back. As did the counselor I met with online, a referral from witness support. Iona had helped me a lot. And I felt like I’d done a pretty good job in the last three months of going from wallowing in self-loathing and self-pity to finding a way back to myself. To understanding how easy it was for victims to blame themselves instead of putting the blame where it belonged. And having some of my so-called neighbors point fingers at me instead of at Greig … aye, that pissed me off.

Iona reminded me every time we talked that what I’d done had saved other women from a fate worse than death.

It wasn’t easy and it wasn’t simple, but I worked every day to remind myself of that. What I’d done to bring Greig to the police hadn’t been perfect. I knew I’d made mistakes, but the result was that he was remanded into custody and he would remain there until his case went to trial. The police had told me that could take up to two years, so it would be a wee bit like purgatory until it was all over. I wasn’t particularly looking forward to how his defense would paint me either.

The procurator fiscal had interviewed me last week and asked if there was anything untoward in my history that the defense might be able to use against me. There wasn’t anything, but they’d attempted to delicately prewarn me that they might try to paint me as an obsessed older woman who hadn’t liked the fact that Greig had ended our relationship. That infuriated me on multiple levels (I mean, for one, I ended our relationship), but I knew I had to be cool as a cucumber when I took the stand. Considering I was hot tempered, I was going to have to do some kind of meditation crap to train for that moment.

I gave my head a wee shake as I walked into the Lantern. Iona had suggested I try not to dwell on the upcoming trial and just live my life as normal. So that’s what I was attempting to do.

My true friends had, of course, rallied around me these past few months. Especially those first few weeks when I was depressed and didn’t want to leave the house. When the agoraphobia set in, that’s when I knew things were bad and I needed to buck up. One of the people who had proven to be very cool was Torin Montrose. Uncaring of my current delicate reputation, he still hired me after I relayed my ideas for his lodges. While the hotel’s design was complete and it was elegant and modern, he wanted something homier and rustic for the lodges. But still modern and luxurious.

No one did luxury lodge better than the Scandinavians, so I’d used the principals of Hygge for my designs with a wee touch of Scottish modernity to remind people where they were.

I was meeting Torin to present my mood boards and was very hopeful he’d give me the green light so we could start ordering things. We needed to get the lodges completed by the beginning of winter so they’d be operational over the lucrative Christmas period.

A few seconds after I stepped into the Lantern, I heard a hush fall over the pub. The chatter from the busy restaurant room beyond the pub became the only noise in the taproom. The place was half-empty because it was midday and mostly filled with older locals, though there were a few tourists giving me curious looks after picking up on the sudden change in atmosphere at my appearance.

A group of men in a booth near the back included Forde’s uncle Roddy. I’d never liked the man and since Forde didn’t have anything to do with his aunt and uncle now, I suspected I might even have reason to despise Roddy and Forde’s aunt Isa.

At Roddy’s sneering countenance, I tilted my chin in defiance and strode over to Torin who had given me a sexy come-hither gesture. It was wrong that his somewhat arrogant demeanor was hot, but I couldn’t help myself. I found the eldest Montrose brother attractive. It was a great pity he was determined to be a thirty-something fuckboy. He and Forde had so much in common it was irritating.

I slid into the seat next to Torin, placing my laptop in front of me.

“I see people are still being narrow-minded arseholes,” Torin commented, not monitoring the volume of his words at all.

Chuckling appreciatively, I shrugged. “I’m over it. I have far more important things on my mind.” I turned the laptop screen toward him. “Your Scandi-Scottish lodges, my lord.” I studied him, trying to see through his carefully masked expression as he scrolled my designs. “The designs aren’t breaking any new ground, but I think they fit the setting perfectly.” I’d traveled over to the Isle of Scaris to see the resort and was mightily impressed by what had flourished there in such little time. Even the whisky distillery, which they’d begun building over five years ago, had just produced its first casks.

I pointed to the screen. “I have included custom millwork. I think if we want to provide the right amount of storage and amenities for the guests who are self-catering in the lodges, we need some clever storage solutions. This here is the entrance and from afar it looks like a wall clad in pale white oak, but upon close inspection, your guests will see that it’s hidden storage. They press parts of the wall and out pop the doors revealing hooks for their coats, cubbies for their shoes, etc. It’ll be especially useful for winter guests.”

Torin nodded, his gaze moving over the screen. “I like it, but how long will it take and how does it affect the budget?”

“I’ve already asked Ramsay McRae if he could pull off this work on time and he said yes, but we’d need to book him now. I also got a good deal.” I relayed how much he said he’d charge for the supplies, his skills, and his time.

Torin raised an eyebrow, his expression warming. “Nice.”

“It’s good to know a local designer who is friends with a master carpenter.” I beamed smugly.

“I can see that.”

“Goddamn slut.”

I tensed as Torin’s head whipped toward the words. Slowly following his gaze, I found Roddy standing at the bar near us, his harsh expression filled with contempt.

“What the fuck did you say?” Torin asked with a quiet menace.

“Tor—”

“Slut.” Roddy spat at me.